Seven Years of Desire

It was seven years ago today that my husband, Bryce, told me he liked me. In a romantic way. I remember him talking nonchalantly about relationships, a casual observation as if saying the sky was blue. Then he said, “Well, you know I’ve been interested in you for a while.” He breezed past the subject as if it were nothing, a quick dismissal that left me both intrigued and slightly bewildered.

I looked back on the photos from the past seven years, a tangible record of the transformation in my life. Seven years ago, I was a ghost of my former self – traumatized, mentally ill, and thin as a twig. My appetite had vanished, leaving me a hollow shell of a person. You found me at my lowest, a broken woman clinging to the edges of existence. And you said, “I’ve been interested in you for a while.”

You discovered me in a state of profound vulnerability, a stark contrast to the vibrant life I was beginning to rebuild under your care. You noticed I was having a bad day, offering a soothing smoothie from a local café. You even held the door open for me, a small gesture that spoke volumes about your kindness and consideration. I wasn’t going to bring it up, assuming you were out of my league, but the simple act left an indelible mark on my heart.

There I was, at my absolute worst, grappling with the aftermath of a brutal abusive relationship and a series of devastating traumas. Now, I rested my head on a perfectly healthy man, a man who looked at me and said, “I want her.” A statement that shattered my preconceived notions and ignited a spark of hope within me.

“Man, I knew I was thin back then, but could you really see my bones like that?” you commented, a playful jab that made me blush.

“Oh yeah, you look so much healthier now,” he replied, his eyes lingering on my form.

Looking through the photos, I saw the progression, the slow but steady resurgence of life into my body and soul. Over the course of our relationship, I began to heal, growing stronger, happier, and more confident. Your love had arrived at precisely the right time, pulling me back from the brink of despair. I don’t know what you saw in me when you first found me, but I’m eternally grateful for your unwavering support and affection.

Kissing him passionately, I reflected on how he’s always loved me through my darkest days and brightest moments. Yes, this was my husband, the man destined for me, and he was far better than I could have ever dreamed. My wildest fantasies couldn’t have prepared me for the reality of his love and devotion. I am profoundly blessed to have found him.

I am proud of my body now, embracing its curves and strength. No longer do I hide it under layers of baggy clothing, concealing my form. Instead, I revel in its beauty, feeling confident and empowered. I have more energy than ever before, eager to pour my heart and soul into loving him.

His hand drifts up my skirt, pulling me closer. I’m on top of him now in the bed, my fingers tangled in his hair. I hold his face and kiss him with an intensity born of years of pent-up longing. This is pure, unadulterated ecstasy. Seven years ago, you told me you wanted me. And seven years ago, I whispered back that I wanted you, too. Now, we’re here, more in love than ever before.

He’s getting harder underneath me, and I can feel his body tensing in anticipation. Soft moans escape both of our lips as we draw nearer. I can’t hold back anymore, slowly sliding him inside of me. The sensation is heavenly, a symphony of pleasure that sends shivers down my spine. I can feel every inch of his body, stretching me and filling me with an intoxicating heat. Oh, how I love this feeling.

He starts thrusting slowly at first, a gentle rhythm that builds anticipation. I can feel every centimeter of his movement now, a tantalizing dance that sets my senses ablaze. His hands gently stroke my back and spine, traveling up and down, causing me to arch my back in response to his touch. A low moan escapes my lips as I respond to his touch.

“You really like that,” he said, noticing how I arched my back in response.

“Yes! Please don’t stop!” I plead, lost in the moment. The gentle strokes send tingles down my spine, and I feel like I’m in a trance. We continue slowly, lost in our own private world.

In and out, in and out, in and out. A rhythm of pleasure and anticipation.

I can’t decide whether I really want him to go faster or not. My body aches for more, but I’m savoring every sensation. I start grinding my hips, moving them in circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The movement intensifies, pulling him closer, deepening the pleasure.

“Oh my gosh. That feels so good, Kayla. Fuck. That feels too good,” he gasped, his voice thick with desire.

Suddenly, he pulls out, breaking the rhythm. I let out a whimper, a small sound of frustration and longing.

“No, I was getting close,” he reassured me, his voice laced with regret.

“I’m sorry if I keep going, I’ll cum too. I don’t want to end this right now,” I confess, my voice trembling slightly.

My pussy is dripping wet, saturated with arousal. I can feel it ache for him, a burning need that demands to be satisfied. At the same time, I continue touching him, kissing him, desperately trying to recapture the lost momentum. I can’t wait for him to put it back inside.

When he puts it back in, he thrusts harder and faster, a relentless surge of passion that threatens to overwhelm me. The feeling is exquisite, a torrent of pleasure that washes over me.

“AHH, YES, BRYCE, I’M GONNA-“

He pulls out again, abruptly halting the rhythm.

“Mmmn why?” I beg, my voice choked with frustration.

“Do you want this to end?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.

“No,” I concede, unable to resist the pull of his touch. I didn’t want this to stop. It felt too good, too addictive. I never wanted to lose this feeling.

So we continued, the dance of pleasure and release continuing without pause.

In and out, in and out, in and out. The rhythm of our passion.

Over and over, we stopped before the finish line, each time pausing to savor the moment before plunging back into the depths of our desire. Our moans grew louder, more desperate, fueled by a shared hunger for each other. We didn’t want to stop, not until we could no longer bear the weight of our longing. My wetness spread over his body, clinging to his skin like a second layer of clothing, while my vagina pulsed with need around his solid, hard cock. We were both lost in the intoxicating joy of endless, uninhibited pleasure.

In and out, in and out, in and out. An endless cycle of ecstasy.

Finally, he called it, turning me around with a gentle touch. I knew he was serious this time, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

“I love you so much,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

Then, unleashing every pent-up tension we’d spent the last forty-five minutes creating, we launched into a frenzied assault of pleasure. He took my legs above his shoulders, pulling me closer, and proceeded to fuck me with a starving, hungry passion that filled every inch of me. I felt him ram into the exact pleasure spot, a searing sensation that made me gasp for air. Over and over again, pleasure was sent up my spine with a direct line of communication to my brain. He fucked me with a raw, primal intensity that left me breathless. My vagina clasped around him in orgasm, contracting intensely beneath his touch as I moaned from the depths of my soul.

Pulling out, he ejaculated ropes of cum directly onto my body, a warm, sticky deluge that coated my skin. I felt the heat radiating through me, a tangible reminder of the intensity of our encounter. As I lay there, paralyzed by pleasure, I watched him panting beside me, his body trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction.

“Happy anniversary,” he said, a tired smile gracing his lips.

“Happy anniversary,” I agreed, exhaling deeply, letting the remnants of pleasure wash over me. The memories of the night, the sensations, the sheer joy of being completely consumed by desire, would linger long after the physical release. As we lay entangled in each other's arms, I knew that this was more than just a celebration of another year together – it was a testament to the enduring power of love, passion, and the exquisite pleasure of surrendering to the moment.

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